


bloom with me

by blvkebellamy



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellamy is a hot mess, Bellarke for BLM, F/M, Fluff, abundance of swearing, clarke is too pretty, miller is sick of bellamys shit, murphy is a little bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blvkebellamy/pseuds/blvkebellamy
Summary: "He opens the door with an old fashioned ding, and instantly the smell hits him, sticks in his nose and stings his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, and he feels a bit stupid now for not expecting it to be so floral.He did expect the abundance of flowers though, so he’s saved face there. Bellamy grins to himself before the situation dawns on him.There is an abundance of flowers.Every colour and—type? Breed? What is he even supposed to call them? Some are loose in buckets, some are already in bunches wrapped in cellophane and tied off with a ribbon bow. They’re dripping from the ceiling in a disconcerting manner, he’s not sure if they’re stuck there or floating.“Hi,” comes a voice from the back of the shop. He looks up in momentary surprise, not realising there was anyone else here. He’d have tried to look a little less lost if he’d known he wasn’t alone. “Can I help you with anything?”The first thing he can think of is it should be illegal to that pretty."Or, Bellamy buys some flowers. And then he keeps buying flowers because he may or may not be crushing.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 17
Kudos: 165
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	bloom with me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Excuseyouclarke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Excuseyouclarke/gifts).



> hello! this fic is for the lovely @excuseyouclarke on tumblr! She donated to the BLM movement for this :D

Bellamy Blake can honestly say he has never stepped foot in a flower shop in all his life. Even for his mother's funeral he let Octavia deal with that side of it because he knew he’d be useless at choosing anything. He’s never been the relationship type, and if he was, he wasn’t the bring home flowers type. He prefers useful things. Like forks.

Somehow, however, he finds himself standing outside a cutesy little florist with an Alice in Wonderland themed window display that okay—he’ll admit was impressive, and he’s sure it wasn’t like this when Vera owned it, but then, he’s never paid any attention to it before. He wouldn’t have paid any attention to it now if he wasn’t sent on misguided advice.

He takes a deep breath and wonders why the hell he’s so nervous. All he’s doing is buying some fucking flowers. Surely he can't mess that up.

Okay, he probably can, but it’s the thought that counts.

It better count.

He opens the door with an old fashioned ding, and instantly the smell hits him, sticks in his nose and stings his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, and he feels a bit stupid now for not expecting it to be so floral.

He did expect the abundance of flowers though, so he’s saved face there. Bellamy grins to himself before the situation dawns on him.

There is an  _ abundance _ of flowers.

Every colour and—type? Breed? What is he even supposed to call them? Some are loose in buckets, some are already in bunches wrapped in cellophane and tied off with a ribbon bow. They’re dripping from the ceiling in a disconcerting manner, he’s not sure if they’re stuck there or floating.

This is where he’s useless. He’s aware that they’re certainly all pretty and whatever, but he has no idea what he’s supposed to be getting. A single flower? A bouquet? And if so which one? Why are there so many?

“Hi,” comes a voice from the back of the shop. He looks up in momentary surprise, not realising there was anyone else here. He’d have tried to look a little less lost if he’d known he wasn’t alone. “Can I help you with anything?”

The first thing he can think of is it should be illegal to that pretty.

The second thing is that now he is acutely aware of his tongue, and how it seems to be stuck to his mouth. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then realises he looks like a gaping fish.  _ Say something,  _ he thought to himself.

“You're young,” he blurted out.  _ Not that. _

The girl just laughs, taking it in stride. “Yeah, prime age for organ harvesting.”

“Kinda messy to do it here, though,” Bellamy says, fake grimacing at the thought of blood everywhere.

“I mean, we have tarps,” the girl says, humming thoughtfully. “Organ harvesting is always messy but if you do it here the clean up will be super easy.”

Bellamy huffs out a small laugh. “Yeah, that's what I look for in a florist. Good organs and easy clean up.”

Clarke smiles at that, bright and genuine. 

Bellamy may not be a relationship guy but suddenly he’s quite certain that could change very soon.

“I’m Clarke,” she says, sticking out her hand to shake. 

Bellamy takes it, noticing just how small her hand was compared to his. “Bellamy.” Her fingers were icy and he can’t help but linger a bit before he lets go.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, before Bellamy starts over analysing things. “Uh, where's Vera?” He asks, in an attempt to shut his brain up.

“Ohio, I think? She wanted to move away from the city, I guess. Marcus—Vera’s son—asked me to basically hold down the fort until she comes back—if she wants to come back.”

“That’s cool,” Bellamy says, trying in vain to seem calm and aloof when internally he was thinking of ways short of murder to make sure Vera stays in Ohio. “Word of warning, don't eat anything at Wallace's. I'm pretty sure they add a mild poison to everything, just for kicks. The only thing worth risking it for is their apple pie.”

Clarke’s face scrunches up. “Why the apple pie?”

“It has salted caramel drizzled on,” Bellamy replies, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, well, if it's salted caramel I'm pretty sure I'd risk  _ severe _ poisoning for that.”

Bellamy laughs, charmed. He notices she has a beauty mark right above her lip. He quickly looks away under the guise of surveying flowers to stop his mind from wandering to what she might do if he licked it.

“So,” Clarke starts, rearranging a bouquet, “you need any plants or did you just come here to offer poisoned pie?”

“Flowers! Yes, uh, I need some flowers,” Bellamy says, wincing slightly at his redundancy.

“You’re in the right place for those. Anything specific?”

“Uh. Pretty ones?”

Clarke laughs, gesturing Bellamy to follow her further into the shop, where there are bouquets arranged on the wall.

“What’s the occasion?” She asks, gesturing to the wall with a flourish. “Hot date?”

Bellamy scoffs. “Definitely not. They’re apology flowers for my sister.”

Clarke opens her mouth, looking like she was going to ask something but quickly shuts it, shaking her head at herself. Instead, she bundles up the bouquet, wrapping it neatly.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck,” she smiles, handing him the flowers.

Bellamy nods at her, smiling a bit. He walks away, concentrating maybe a bit too hard on looking somewhat put together. Just before he reaches the door, he trips over a stray bag of seeds, nearly sending him flying. His ears burn in mortification.

Why is he like this?

He turns to smile at Clarke, silently reassuring he’s okay and isn’t a complete loser. Clarke is hiding her laugh behind her hand, shoulders shaking.

Bellamy is so fucked.

***

Taking a deep breath, Bellamy knocks three times on the door to Octavia’s apartment. She opens it, immediately crossing her arms over her chest, ready for a fight. “Well?” She asks.

“Flowers. Sorry I’m an asshole.”

Octavia looks at the bouquet. Then back up to Bellamy. The fight drains out of her in one huff. “As long as you’re self-aware,” she says, smiling. She takes the bouquet and waves him in, going to the kitchen to put the flowers in water while Bellamy makes his way to the couch.

“Did you see the new florist? I think her name’s Clara or something,” Octavia says, nudging Bellamy with her foot so he moves over.

“Her name’s Clarke,” Bellamy says offhandedly, messing with the remote control. Immediately, he feels his sister’s eyes on him, looking for any signs of weakness. Or just general crushing.

“She’s cute,” Octavia offers, voice too light to be anything but dangerous.

“Yeah, pretty cute. Not that i was paying attention to that. It was an offhand thing. An offhand cuteness if you will.”

Octavia gives him a look. Bellamy knows he lost.

“Okay, so I may have a very slight crush.”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t scare her off. She's cool, Bell. And young. I could have a friend who hasn't been to juvie.”

Bellamy narrows his eyes, pointing at her. “Hey, Murphy just had to do community service,” Octavia scoffs at this, but Bellamy just presses on, “besides, it was good in the end. We got a new library.”

“Not the point. Do  _ not _ mess this up for me,” she says, sternly glaring at him. It would’ve made a lesser man cower, but Bellamy’s been putting up with this since freshman year.

“Me? Foil your friendship?”

Octavia gives him the Look™. The Look™ that says nothing will save him if he does anything that even remotely fucks this up.

Bellamy sighs. “I’ll try to be normal.”

Octavia finally smiles, punching his shoulder. “That's all I ask.”

***

Bellamy did try to be normal. Really, he did. 

But Clarke was just  _ so _ cute and before he knew it he was buying flowers for every occasion possible. 

It got to be too much when he gave Murphy a bouquet.

Murphy stares at the bouquet in his lap, scrambling away from it like it’s a bomb. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Bellamy shrugs. “You called me an asshole.”

Murphy looks at Bellamy like he’s grown a second head. “Yeah, I call everyone an asshole. Giving me flowers isn’t exactly an appropriate response.”

Bellamy takes the flowers with him into the kitchen, looking for a tall glass (because all his vases are used) to put them in. “The flowers mean fuck you.” 

Murphy stops, considering. “Well, it's a lovely arrangement.”

Bellamy scoffs. “Of course it is. Clarke made it.”

Miller, who seemed content to ignore them and play Animal Crossing until this point speaks up. “Dude, you are so far gone.”

Bellamy narrows his eyes at him, shaking his head in denial.

Anything Bellamy could have said in his defense was drowned out by Miller’s sigh, heavy and put upon. “Look around, Bellamy.”

Flowers adorn every inch of the apartment. There’s flowers in vases, jars, even an R2D2 mug that he got from a thrift store that one time. And it’s not  _ just  _ flowers. There are plants galore, in little pots dotted around and making the entire place seem like a small ecosystem.

Bellamy moves a plant he bought from Clarke’s flower shop to put the flowers he bought from Clarke’s flower shop into a tall glass because all the suitable flower holding containers have been taken up by more flowers he bought from Clarke’s flower shop. “I honestly don’t see a problem.”

Miller rolls his eyes, his entire body moving with the force of it while Murphy throws a shoe at Bellamy’s head. 

“If you don’t see a problem, fine,” Miller says, gesturing threateningly with his Switch, “but I’m not letting you go broke while you unsuccessfully try to woo the flower girl.”

“ _ Florist.”  _ Bellamy mumbles, not bothering to defend himself against Miller’s accusations.

Miller presses on as if Bellamy hasn’t said anything. “ _ So,  _ what I’m gonna do is give you an ultimatum. You have three days, Blake, or I introduce her to Murphy.”

Bellamy pauses. “Oh, that’s not too bad.” Murphy wasn’t a terrible guy. He can be civil, and Clarke can clearly hold her own.

Miller’s expression turns deadly. “Not when I give Murphy express permission to be a dick.”

Bellamy gasps, dropping the tall glass in his hands. “You bitch.”

Murphy smiles, obviously enjoying this. “I’ll even wear my straight boy clothes,” he taunts, grinning wildly.

Bellamy stares for what feels like an age at Miller, trying to get him to succumb with the pure force of his glare. Miller just stares back, pettiness fueling him.

Bellamy breaks first, looking away and scowling. “Fine.”

Miller just smiles, going back to his perfectly good  _ virtual  _ plants. “Three days, Blake.” 

Bellamy, still hopped up on spite and adrenaline says the first thing his brain comes up with. “Make it two.”

“Sure.”

Murphy laughs, throwing his shoe at Bellamy. It misses him by a wide arc. “You suck at this.”

“Fuck off, Murphy.”

***

After a few hours of self pity, self loathing, trying to kill Miller and trying to bribe Murphy, Bellamy decides to confess the next day. This crush was messing with his mind. It was putting it through a blender and absolutely crushing it.

He had to do something.

So, Bellamy went to the other florist in town, about forty minutes away. Buying flowers from them felt like a betrayal, but it had to be done. This way, he’ll have some flowers to give Clarke  _ and  _ he has some time to freak out silently in his car.

This’ll be fine. Totally. It has to be.

He’ll kill Miller otherwise.

Taking a deep breath and his bouquet, Bellamy walks into the flower shop, immediately being hit with the almost overwhelming smell of flowers. 

“Clarke?” Bellamy calls, looking around leaves and buckets (or were they pots?). “Clarke–Jesus Christ!”

Clarke jumps out from behind the really big leaf she was hiding behind, making Bellamy stumble back, startled. She’s laughing,  _ hard,  _ tears in the corner of her eyes spilling out onto her cheeks.

“Oh–my god!” She gasps between breaths. “You should have seen your face!”

Bellamy feels his ears burn and he tries to glare. The effect is ruined with the fondness in his eyes but he hopes she won’t notice. “What were you even doing there?”

“Waiting for you,” she smiles, residual shakes of laughter still running through her body. “I heard you come in. You deserved to be scared.”

Bellamy’s brow furrows. “What? Why?”

Clarke points at the bouquet in his hand. “Betrayal.”

Bellamy looks at the bouquet, then back at Clarke who has a sombre expression. She shakes her head in dismay.

“No–wait–it’s not like that,” Bellamy stutters, trying to get his limbs to work. He pushes the flowers underneath Clarke’s face, holding them out awkwardly. “These are yours!”

Clarke just looked confused. This wasn’t good. “You stole from me?”

“What? No, of course not! These are  _ for _ you. I, uh, bought them at Sunway, you know, the one forty minutes away? Since I was getting you flowers it felt weird to get them here because, you know, you’d  _ know _ and I wanted it to be a surprise so,” Bellamy gestures lamely, “surprise?”

Clarke hesitantly takes the bouquet, inspecting the arrangement. She was sort of smiling, so that must be a good sign, right? 

“Bellamy,” she says, looking up at him. Bellamy is pretty sure his heart stopped.

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you get me flowers?”

“Uh, I wanted to–um, maybe, ask you out.”

He did it. He said the words. Clarke’s face slowly stretched into a smile.

“Maybe?”

Bellamy runs a hand through his hair. “I do. I’m asking you out.”

Clarke looks down at the flowers, then back at him. Then, in a blink of an eye, she stretches on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Bellamy is too shocked to do anything except marvel at her warmth. He tenderly presses his fingers to the spot she kissed.

“Pick me up at seven,” Clarke says, voice soft as if it was only meant for him.

Bellamy grins back, heart finally beating evenly.

Maybe Miller could live to see another day.

**Author's Note:**

> if u want a fic, hit up my inbox and donate to blm :D even a dollar is fine :))
> 
> tumblr: @bvrnes-bucky


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